To type.

We must not believe the hype. Not swing back into ‘what can we do/does it a matter/not gonna win’. Says who? I suppose my faith comes from...

There’s no rational to suggest def-not win.

If these sickos had it in them to blow us all up, why haven’t they? Toying with us, not quite ready, or-what?

Man on an island (reportedly). Old man. Fasting, praying, such... has hallucinating-like visions from God. Last words to this last lot, a local church in the Lycus valley. Long time gone. Risen Christ speaking. Has a complaint: ‘So mediocre safe, tame and lame, make me wanna vomit y’out m’mouth (God-speak). Then comes some comparatives on economics and comfort, and riches but... can you Arthur and Eve it? Invites himself to dinner. Oh what God I know. Not go off and sort it out. Come let’s be-chill and chatter.

Look at me. I stand at the door. I knock. If you hear me call and open the door, I’ll come right in and sit down to supper with you.

Believe there’s no door, no knocking. Dare you believe - and call it - a conspiracy not to investigate?

Go on? Hear up.

Listen? Respond on seeking. What’s the loss?

James, Aangirfan, Tap and Lasha ‘n all. Wonderfolk, outrageous lovers of others. Must be. Smell the trees, feel the wind, (play Bach) - whatever it is that motives? Maybe children giving them that look you imagine is saying “go-on-now” Truth-troubadours. Stand at the door and knock. Ain’t jokin’.

Jesus - on the other hand - stands behind (them).

Arthur and...

Can you, would you?

Dedicate this post to dearest Flora.